Lavender Mist
by F. F. Nightingale
Summary: AU. Shaken from her near death experience in 2.08, Scully leaves Mulder and the X-files behind. Months later, a bizarre case throws her back into Mulder's path and permanently alters the nature of their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It was the most profound lie she had told to date.

"I don't remember anything."

Her mother nodded, grasping her hand as soft sobs racked her body. She wouldn't look too far into it, overwhelmed with relief to have her daughter back.

Margaret, however, was skeptical. In itself, this was an amusing irony. Someone so willing to believe in the afterlife and spirits, unwilling to accept a justifiable loss of memory after such a traumatic event.

Forcing back her desperation, Scully reiterated, eyes glued to a nurse sitting at the front desk, typing away at a keyboard.

"I don't remember anything."

Something broken invaded her voice. She didn't have to fake it.

Slowly, Margaret's shoulders sagged. Within minutes, she mirrored her mother's relief; finally willing to accept this reality.

Scully retold this lie three more times. Once to the doctor. Once to the FBI. And once to Mulder.

Mulder.

She could barely look at him. He'd rushed to the hospital as soon as her mother phoned him. In the presence of her family, he'd been cool and collected. She was surprised. Margaret had hinted he had underwent his own private devastation in the aftermath of her abduction. She couldn't deny her disappointment at watching him leave after only a few minutes. It hurt. More than she was willing to analyze.

It wasn't a complete lie. She remembered almost nothing after Duane Barry. Almost.

There had been a voice. Not her father's and not the mystery nurse who had coaxed and encouraged her back to consciousness. It wasn't nearly so comforting.

She recalled a split moment of awareness. Her eyes were pried shut. Her location unknown. Coolness surrounded her, but her body didn't respond. Reality felt a million miles away. Nothing was tangible.

And then, the voice broke through.

Mechanical, sure of itself. Smooth, unwavering.

"Why fight, Dana?"

She wanted to answer. To scream all the reasons why until her lungs were blue. By nature, she was a fighter. Never with physical blows, lest it came down to it. An unshakable self preservation had always guided her. Where she'd inherited this from, she couldn't say.

But, her voice was muffled. With what little consciousness remained, her thoughts strayed to Mulder.

Why fight? Because she knew he wanted her to. Because she _needed_ to see him again.

And this voice...it knew.

"So willing to return to the man responsible for your condition? What do you think will change?"

The questions felt like blows. She suddenly didn't want to be aware anymore.

"He has no trouble sacrificing your life for the pursuit of the truth. At his side, you are nothing more than a casualty."

Her thoughts were paralyzed. The voice cancelled out all reasoning.

"You know there is truth to this. Something you have avoided for fear of reaching this exact conclusion."

A numbing silence caused her to retreat further into the abyss, nearly severing awareness altogether. But not before hearing the voice speak one final time.

"He will never care for you the way you care for him. Should you live, it is at his side you will die. Day after day after day after day..."

She recalled nothing more.

Before Mulder arrived, Scully had the chance to mull over this memory again. Whether the voice had been real, she couldn't concretely say. The brain was enigmatic and her experience was too unclear to offer a definitive prognosis.

But what the voice said, she had difficulty denying. Though Duane Barry was responsible for her abduction, she wouldn't have been involved if not for being Mulder's partner. Of course she would never blame him for her actions. On her own accord, she sought out the truth just as vehemently as he had.

The only difference was she had been the one to suffer the consequences. And if she persisted, there was a good chance she would't be so lucky to return as she had this time around.

What the future held for her if she stayed at Mulder's side was nothing short of grim. Before, she'd been careful to evade this. Now, there was no dodging around the truth. And it wasn't grim solely because she was now intimately acquainted with the limits of her own mortality.

Rather, she knew she cared for Mulder much deeper than she would admit and she was only now beginning to recognize that the only commitment he was capable of making was to the discovery of the truth.

As admirable as it was, that commitment would endure whether she was alive or not.

His brief visit forced her to come to a decision. He would eventually find what he was searching for with or without her involvement. And though her curiosity was just as strong, there was a desire for a return to normalcy. She was tired. Tired of always looking over her shoulder. Tired of doing weekly apartment checks, making sure nothing had been bugged or wire-tapped. Tired of chasing cases where the evidence nearly always managed to disappear before it could be brought to light.

If she kept up at this rate, she feared burning out. She feared something worse. Unquestionably, the brush with death offered this perspective. But it wasn't one she was willing to ignore. Not anymore.

 **One Week Later**

A knock at the door caused Mulder to swivel hard in his chair. He sought out the person at the entryway with no shortage of excitement.

Upon noticing Skinner, his shoulders slumped.

"Mulder," Skinner greeted, stepping forward.

He wasn't initiating eye contact, making Mulder slightly uneasy.

"What's going on?"

Skinner's gaze fell to a nearby cabinet. "I've got some news regarding Agent Scully."

"I talked to her on the phone a couple days ago. She's supposed to be returning today. Does she need a few more days?"

Though she hadn't mentioned needing more time when they spoke, Mulder understood and secretly encouraged it. Not because he felt she'd be incapable. Scully was equipped with a preservation, both personally and professionally, that he discretely and ardently admired. It was one of the countless reasons she worked so perfectly for him as a partner. Their preservation levels were strikingly similar.

That she wanted to return to work so soon, startled him. It'd been difficult for him to read her as of late. Normally, if he asked, she was forthcoming with her thoughts and feelings. The last three times they'd spoken, she'd been unusually reserved. He couldn't determine whether it was a result of her experience with Duane Barry or the coma. He also couldn't rule out that her family required a good deal of her attention.

Regardless, he hoped she'd take a little more time off for herself. Her mental and emotional well-being was unexpendable. He'd actually been reluctant to take on any cases until she was ready too as well. Having experienced Scully's absence, he was adverse, to say the least, to continue working without her. Especially when they finally had no bureaucratic bullshit keeping them apart.

"She doesn't need anymore time off," Skinner admitted, pulling Mulder from his thoughts. "Even after I insisted it. Remarkable really."

Blinking, Mulder glanced at the empty entryway. He almost expected her to appear in light of Skinner's compliment.

"Seeing as you keep looking at the doorway like an eager bloodhound, I'm guessing she didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?"

Skinner sighed at the expression on his face.

"Effective today, Agent Scully has been reassigned to the field office in Charlotte. It was...at her request."

Mulder shook his head before the words processed.

To his credit, Skinner appeared remorseful.

"She put in the request while in the hospital. I uh...I'm sorry. I didn't realize she kept you in the dark about this."

Mulder felt like he'd been stabbed in the gut. And no matter how hard he pressed down on the wound, the blood kept gushing out.

 _I knew she was acting distant. Why didn't I pursue it?_

He knew why. Without meaning to, he'd been treating her like delicate porcelain. Prod too hard and he feared she'd crack. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for that. Not again. _Never_ again.

So afraid to push, he'd been blindsided by her pull.

"Charlotte?" he repeated, unable to discern what emotion was caught in his throat.

"Yeah." Skinner shifted in place. "If you want, I could put out a call for a new partner. More agents respect you around here than you might think."

"I don't need a new partner," he bit back, tightening one hand into a fist so quick it produced a crack.

"Point taken. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Mulder barely heard his departure.

He stayed fastened to his chair, staring at the wall. Amidst the whirlwind of emotion threatening to upend his recent peace of mind, he desperately sought out an answer to the most glaring question in his head.

 _Why didn't she tell me?_

He couldn't decide on an answer. Or rather, the one he chose pained him far too much to consider.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **Three and a Half Months Later**

A brown case file rested on Scully's desk when she arrived early Wednesday morning. The floor was empty, save for the occasional janitorial staff. She preferred it this way. Too much noise and it interfered with her thinking process. Though she'd never mention it aloud, every now and again, she found herself missing the isolation of the X-files basement in DC. Environmental quiteness had unknowingly become a valuable friend.

She discarded her briefcase by the chair and sat down. The gas station coffee she'd chugged down sailed from her hand into a nearby trashcan. Calmed by the alertness buzzing through her, Scully slid the case file in front of her, slipped on her glasses, and opened it.

After ten minutes of silent reading to herself, she looked up. To say the case was bizarre would be an understatement.

According to the report, a string of sex crimes was plaguing a rural town in northeastern North Carolina. The first oddity was the unusually high amount of them. Nine in the past week. The town's population was at a conservative 956. The crimes - all attempted rapes or assaults - ended in four of the assailant's deaths. Each death was also carried out by the victim as a means of self-defense.

What further piqued her curiosity was the nature of the relationship between the assailants and the victims. In six of the nine, the assailant was a family member. In one case, the assailant was a teacher. The other two victims were insistent that their assailants had been good friends.

It wasn't uncommon for sex crimes to be conducted by friends, family, or acquaintances. But in a close-knit town of such a small population density, the high amount was largely atypical. Especially when a quick read of the summary for the town - Samson - revealed the worst crime in its 203 year history had been a prank by a group of teenagers. They'd snuck onto a cattle farm and released 70 calves, most of which wandered into the town square.

This ensnared her interest most of all. What could so extremely alter the behavior of residents in a harmless small town? Sprees like these seldom developed out of the blue, and even rarer was the informal acquaintance among everyone involved.

Removing her glasses, Scully leaned back in her chair. She debated calling Agent Adabi. Her partner would no doubt be equally puzzled by the nature of the case and wouldn't mind a trip out of the city. However, a quick glance at her watch dissuaded the idea. Fabia Adabi was a fairly young addition to the bureau and her sleep schedule directly reflected this. She was rarely in the office before 8AM.

This only amplified Scully's restlessness. The introduction of such a perplexing case demanded immediate action. She was half tempted to begin the drive to Samson now.

Unfortunately, protocol won out. This was the downside of having a partner who required so much sleep. Not that it was a bad thing. But having been used to Mulder's sleep schedule for so long, or rather, a lack of one...

She closed her eyes, banishing all thoughts of her former partner. If there was a guaranteed way to poison her mood, that would be it. And already, the day was starting off promising.

Her eyes fell down to the case file.

 _This is what I consider promising nowadays?_

Ignoring this thought, she grabbed the phone. Before Adabi's arrival, she decided it couldn't hurt to engage in further research and get in contact with Samson's local police department. There had to be some sort of trigger for these events.

 **Five Hours Later**

Samson, North Carolina was a deceivingly beautiful town. Not that Scully harbored any resentment toward small towns. In fact, a favorite daydream of hers - whenever she could spare the time for them - was eventually settling down somewhere rural. She didn't always know the specifics, but she wanted to be near a woods. Be able to inhale the fresh air the moment she woke up.

Samson was roughly 30 miles from the Appalachian. Because so much of the town was flat, if you squinted into the distance, the fuzzy outline of trees could be seen.

The amount of flowers present, especially in the town square, amazed her. They were hung in front of stores from pots, nestled evenly between lamp posts, and somehow, you couldn't escape encountering a stray petal simply walking down the street.

Scully's floral skills were a little rusty, but she was internally proud enough to at least recognize white roses, marigolds, tulips, Asiatic lilies, geraniums, and a few scabiosas, though their presence was infrequent. The flower was considerably larger than its counterparts and could only be spared a few places near a tree.

The close proximity of these flowers produced a calming, saccharine scent. She'd heard an expression somewhere along the lines of it being essential to take time out of your day to stop and smell the flowers. For once, she was taking the phrase literally.

 _It must get overwhelming after awhile._

This consideration was brief. Humans were good at adapting to smells. She imagined the residents got used to it to the point of barely being able to detect it.

Scully checked into her motel room, located on the edge of town, just shy of one o'clock in the afternoon. After a quick shower, she sat on the bed and placed a phone call.

"Hey Scully. I got the information you wanted."

A heavy series of coughs followed this statement. She waited patiently for them to end.

"Sorry again I couldn't be there with you," Adiba said, sniffling. "What's the place like?"

"Beautiful," she admitted. "You can't go ten feet without seeing a flower. Well-landscaped too. I think you'd like it."

"Sounds divine." The sound of shuffling papers greeted her ear. "I called neighboring field offices and there hasn't been anything matching the description of what's going on in Samson. As far as the east coast goes, this is a pretty isolated incident. And though there's a river nearby, it doesn't bypass any factories or sewage plants. The town is as remote and uncontaminated as it can be. If you wanted to move to paradise, I'd say that town's it."

Sighing, Scully rubbed her forehead. She didn't know why she'd put so much emphasis on this theory. That the resident's actions weren't solely their own, but rather the result of something more insidious. Had she been working with Mulder for so long that she naturally came to expect reasoning beyond the individual? Or was it simply too disheartening to accept that nine people woke up throughout various parts of the week and attempted to rape their friends and family?

"Thanks Fabia. I appreciate it."

"No problem. I know it's not the answer you wanted, but at least it's something you can rule out. If you need anymore help, don't hesitate to call. It makes me feel...useful."

Scully smiled. "I will. Feel better."

Hanging up, she slumped back into the bed. The next part wasn't something she was looking forward to- visiting the victims. Such a personal crime tended to destabilize the emotions of generally stable people. Additionally, some of the victims were male. Speaking about the experience would not be easy. And once they did, it would beat at her own empathy. She may have a knack for disassociating herself with cadavers during autopsy, but when the body was human and their experience was raw, it suddenly became a little more difficult. She'd never told Mulder this. It'd been easier to adopt division from their victims when he was around. She practically fed off his professional energy.

But by herself, she was forced to examine her own emotive responses. Far too often, they were far less rational than she enjoyed being.

 _There's no way around this._

Inhaling deeply, she grabbed her car keys.

 **Two Hours Later**

By the time she knocked on the ninth home, her knuckles were slightly raw. Worse, her morale had sunk to abysmal levels. All eight victims she had sought out, declined to talk with her. They were much more rattled about their experiences than she'd anticipated. Though, she couldn't blame them either, even if it made her job that much more difficult.

Before seeking them out, she'd swung by the police station to pick up any additional information. This included the victims' statements along with their physicals from the medical clinic. A quick read-through confirmed the usual evidence of attempted assault. The victims' statements also read similarly. Person X, who had displayed no prior ill-will toward the victims, unexplainably attempted to force themselves on them. The attacks were scattered without pattern across the town. An officer watching her read the statements explained it wasn't uncommon for most of the residents to own some sort of weapon. During the winter, there was a fairly active hunting community in the town. This explained why there were four casualties. Some of the victims had been lucky enough to be near a weapon.

While the papers reconfirmed the bizareness of the incidents, Scully had next to nothing for a motive. The police had the foresight to draw a sample of each living assailant's blood in case they were under the influence of something, but the toxicology results wouldn't be back until later in the day. That none of the victims chose to speak further about their experiences other than their statements, robbed her of the chance to ask more specific questions.

The creak of a door yanked her out of her thoughts.

"Hello," she greeted, attempting her warmest smile, "I'm Agent Scully with the FBI."

A young woman peeked at her underneath heavy black bangs. Her eyes slipped down to her badge.

"I told the police everything."

Scully racked her brain through the names of the victims. If she wasn't mistaken, this was Lisa Hargitay.

"I was hoping, Miss Hargitay, that I could ask you some follow up questions. If you don't want to answer something, I'll understand."

Lisa nibbled at her thumb. If Scully recalled correctly, the woman was the youngest victim out of them all. 18.

"You can come in," she relented, stepping back. "But you have to be gone before my parents get back. They...they don't want me talking about it."

Relieved, she entered the home.

Lisa wrapped her arms around herself, moving toward a hallway. Scully followed at a comfortable distance, not wanting to further intimidate the girl. She paused at the glass door to the back yard.

"I hate being inside," was her response.

She pulled open the door and walked out.

The patio momentarily took Scully's breath away. It was clear someone in the family was an avid gardener. Flowers she had a difficult time identifying spanned halfway across the yard. The stems were lengthy, blooming various shades of orange, pink, red, and white.

"My mom and I take care of it," Lisa said, watching her.

"It's stunning."

She meant it too. New Jersey may be known as the Garden State, but she figured Samson, North Carolina could give the state a run for its money.

Lisa settled down on a reclining chair from a nearby patio set. Making sure her movements were slow, Scully mimicked the action. She finally had a chance to ask questions. It was imperative she tred cautiously.

"Miss Hargitay-."

"Lisa," she interrupted, focused on the garden. "We're informal around here. You only call your teachers Miss."

Scully nodded, glancing down at her notepad. "Lisa. Is there anything unusual you can recall about David's behavior on the night of the attack?"

She didn't answer for a long moment, arms wrapped protectively around herself.

"I've known David since I was six. We used to fish at the creek by the river."

She peered down at the grass, a half smile forming on her lips.

"Each time we caught a fish, he wouldn't have the guts to kill it. Even though it'd impress his dad, he always threw them back."

She brought her thumb to her lips and bit at the nail.

"We were at his parents place. In the basement. I'm always over there, or he's over here. We were on the couch when he told me he felt strange."

Tensing, Scully picked up her pen. "What do you mean by strange?"

Lisa shook her head. "He said it was like a fever. I touched his forehead to see and he was burning up. He...he pushed me away after I touched him. I was scared. He'd never pushed me before. But...I wanted to help. I ran upstairs to get him some water."

She was quiet again. Scully didn't dare push. There was nothing in the report about the state of the assailants prior to the attacks. Every little detail mattered.

"When I came back downstairs, he tackled me. He uh...he's not a strong guy. I used to have to help him reel the fish in."

"He was stronger than usual?"

She nodded.

"You managed to get away?"

"I had to hit him with a fire iron!" she exclaimed, unable to hold back the tears. "I didn't want to but he kept trying to take off my-."

She sobbed, pressing a hand to her mouth.

Scully stood and pulled some tissues out of her coat. Lisa accepted them, dabbing at her eyes.

"Thank you, Lisa. I know that wasn't easy."

She hated how detached she sounded. But any further emotional involvement and it would cloud her objectivity.

Lisa looked at her, tears slowly receding. "Miss Scully?"

"Yes?"

"I...David is a good person. I know I sound crazy saying it after everything. My dad said he'd kill him if he saw him again."

She inhaled deeply, gathering herself.

"This wasn't like him. Please, figure out what's going on."

Her bleary gaze momentarily deprived Scully of oxygen. The amount of pain resting there nearly made her ache too.

"I won't leave until I find out what happened," she promised.

Lisa nodded, bringing her thumb back to her mouth. Her eyes fell back to the garden.

 **One Hour Later**

"I don't understand," Scully said. "The results from the toxicology report were supposed to be faxed here."

Officer Sheridan sighed. "As I've said, Agent Scully, the results came in a half hour ago. There was another suit. I didn't meet him. Officer Robbins did, and he's out on a call. The suit had proper ID and took the report."

She stared at him. "There's no one else working this case from the FBI."

The officer looked exasperated.

Scully reeled in her frustration. It was obvious this man was caught in the middle.

"Did he take anything else?"

"Robbins said he wanted the victims' statements and physicals. But you took those with you."

"I-."

She was at a loss of what to say.

"Is there a chance you could get the report faxed here again?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

A half hour later and she was leaning forward on the motel bed, phone pressed to her ear.

"I hate to ask, but I need you to look into who else is working this case."

"Someone else is working it?" Fabia reiterated.

"Yes. Ask around. They took my toxicology report. Something in there could be the key to what's been happening around here."

"I'm on it."

Hanging up, Scully massaged her temples. Whoever impeded her investigation and snatched her evidence was inspiring a hell of a headache.

 _I need more coffee._

Languidly, she stood. One of the perks of the motel was the manager always had a pot of coffee brewing. He'd told her during check-in she was welcome to it anytime.

Containing a yawn, Scully walked to the door and pulled it open.

To her left, she detected the sound of a key being forced into a lock.

She looked at the individual entering the motel room next to her the same time they glanced up at her.

Both individuals froze.

Scully looked Mulder up and down, mouth dropping open. Her eyes paused upon noticing the file in his hand.

"You stole my toxicology report."

She blurted it without much thought.

Mulder's surprise quickly made way for a crooked smile.

"You stole my victims' statements."

The accusation instantly reignited her frustration.

Without another word, she retreated back into her room and slammed the door shut.

Footsteps immediately appeared outside her door.

"Scully."

She shook her head. Of course. Who else's curiosity would be piqued by such a strange sequence of events?

"Mulder," she replied, crossing her arms.

He was quiet for a moment. She wondered if it was asking too much that he would go back to his motel room as if he didn't see her.

"I had a feeling you would be here."

Containing a sigh, she approached the door.

"I'm working the case alone." She tried too sound firm.

"Tough to do when I have your toxicology report." He sounded cocky.

It made her want to throw open the door and give him a piece of her mind. Fortunately, she had incredible control over her impulses.

"Could you please slide it under the door?"

"I could."

"Why don't you?"

"Because I want to see you."

She hadn't expected him to be so honest. Involuntarily, it made her heart rate quicken.

"I don't think that's best."

His feet shuffled.

"Then I guess I'll hold onto the report."

She closed the distance to the door, but didn't open it. Not yet. Opening the door wouldn't just be a physical act.

"Okay," she said, placing her hand on the knob. "We'll exchange our information. After that, we go our separate ways."

His voice was partially muffled against the door. It sounded like he was pressed just as tightly against it as she was.

"If that's what you want..."

"It is," she finished, not fully believing herself.

"Okay."

His prompt response caused her to tighten her hand on the knob and step back.

 _Just an exchange of information,_ she tried convincing herself.

Deeper down, she wondered if it would actually be that easy.


End file.
